Convict Blood

by Ward, Vivian

  But then another question forms in my mind. How many other women is he doing this for? Does he bribe any of the others with sexual favors? Am I the only one? And if so, why me? The more I know and can learn, the better my situation will be.

  No matter how many times I replay it in my mind, thinking about her giving me a handjob gets better and better every time. I could’ve taken her. Raped her. I could’ve done it several times when I had her locked in my room.

  But I didn’t.

  And it took every fiber of my being not to have her. Feel her from the inside. Make her come on my cock. Every bloody fiber! And it’s taking every ounce of strength that I have not to take her back to my room again. If I did, I know I wouldn’t be able to control myself in private with her.

  I didn’t call her up on deck over the last few days as I sorted through things in my head. Distance. I needed some distance away from her because I’ve never wanted a woman as badly as I want her, and it scares the bloody hell out of me.

  I’m not even sure why I want her so bad. She’s just a convict like all the others, but there’s something different about her. Whether it’s her street smarts, how protective she is of that baby, or how cautious she is, I have no idea. It could also be how full her breasts are or how curvy her hips appear.

  When comparing her to the others, I can’t come up with any answers. Most of them are of average looks but Victoria is gorgeous. Why? I think it’s her eyes; those secretive, dark green jewels. They’re nearly impossible to read and give away very little clues.

  Of course, as a nursing mother, her figure is curvier than the rest of the women. None of them have full hips and luscious breasts. Their faces are boney, their hips are thin, and they don’t have a glow about them as she does.

  Even when I had her brought on deck for laundry detail, I had Digby deal directly with her. I didn’t think I could stand being near her but the more I watched her while she worked, the closer I wanted to get to her.

  The fact that I can’t get her out of my mind is alarming. Even as a civilian, I never wanted a woman as bad as I want her. I’ve never thought about kidnapping one, locking her in my room, and fondling her; yet, I’ve done it with her.

  She makes me so angry sometimes. I know she’s perfect for me. Why can’t she just see that? Because she said she’s married? I’ve been searching for the man she claims is her husband but I cannot locate that name. Of course, I’ve not filled her in on any of this for various reasons.

  For starters, I don’t want her to think that I’m dedicated to finding her husband—if she has one. All of the names were recorded on scrolls of paper when they boarded but we’ve lost quite a few convicts already. Disease and hunger will always prevail in conditions like this, so it’s possible that he’s already gone or that his name wasn’t recorded as they were loading up all of the prisoners. There’s no telling which because the men in charge of records are lucky enough to spell their own names, let alone record hundreds of convict names.

  Second, I hope I never find him because I want her all to myself. Taking him out of the equation completely changes everything. There would be no husband to compete with and I want her to focus solely on me. I want her to rely on me.

  Third, the less she knows about his whereabouts, the better position that puts me in. If she holds onto the hope that he’s here and still alive and well, I might be able to dangle that above her head. If she believes he’s deceased, I can be the one to console her. It works out well for me, no matter which situation she’s in.

  But Victoria is a resourceful woman. She’s strong. I might not be able to easily win over her trust and heart, but it makes this little game that much more fun. She’s like a challenge and I’m ready to conquer that quest.

  Most women in her shoes would have already had a nervous breakdown. They would’ve curled up in a ball and became a shell of their former selves. Some women are eager and quick to perform in the bedroom in exchange for clothes or extra food while others might have agreed to it at first and then changed their minds once they were in the room.

  But Victoria?

  She’s as strong as the day I met her and while she didn’t readily agree to anything, she didn’t back down from me one time. She was ready to fight, she was ready to escape, and she was ready to kill.

  Maybe I should’ve killed her instead. Nobody would miss her—except maybe her daughter. It angered me that she tried to pull a stunt like that.

  I laugh to myself as I think about her failed attempt to attack me and escape. It was clever but poorly executed. She’s no match for someone like me. I never expected she’d try to kill me but when she did, it awoke something dark inside me. It made my cock stir in my pants, to the point that I made her jack me off before returning her to the hulks. Not only did it bring me a bit of satisfaction and sexual relief, but it served as an important reminder that I can—and will—make her do anything I want, and there’s nothing she can do about it.

  Despite having her tiny fist pumping my thick cock and reliving the memory of how amazing it felt, I want more of her. I want to know how good her pussy feels wrapped around my cock. I want to know how hard I can make her come. I want to see her face as she moans my name.

  I want to watch her as I fill with her with my seed, whether it be her pussy, mouth, or ass, or shooting it all over her curvy body.

  There are plenty of ways that I could defile that sweet little Victoria Easton. And I plan on doing every single one of them to make her mine and show her that I’m in charge here; not her.

  Watching her with the baby as she finishes her chores, a small smile reaches my lips when I see her reach into her baby wrap and feed the little one some of the cheese I’d given to her. Just as I suspected, she’s handling it like a pro, gumming it with her toothless smile.

  Victoria smiles, too. Feeding her baby seems to make her happy, and I like how she looks right now as she smiles at her baby with the gentle breeze blowing through her hair, pushing her almost see-through dress right up against her body. My cock begins to stir and I start to imagine all the things I’d do to her.

  Her feistiness is a challenge that my cock loves. I want to watch her struggle again. It was so easy for her to say no and try to fight me, but her body and actions told a different story. She stroked my cock on command and watching her submit to me in that way fueled my lust for her.

  As much as I want to fuck her until she can’t walk straight, I want to know what makes her tick. Obviously, her baby. Mentioning that kid sends her into overdrive, and she seems to be awfully concerned about her husband but I want to know more about her. How does an ordinary housewife become a convict? Pureness is written all over her face. I want to use it as a canvas to paint her innocent features with my hot come.

  What is wrong with me?

  I’ve never been this bloody interested in a woman before, let alone a convict. I’m supposed to watch over them, keep them in line, and discipline them as needed. There was never supposed to be any kind of attraction or desire for one.

  Never.

  Yet, she has me breaking every cardinal rule as a Marine and as a man. Knowing that she belongs to someone else should automatically make her off-limits to me. Knowing that she’s a convict should sound off all the alarm bells, but I can’t stay away from her. I have to have her.

  I need to have her.

  The only way to do that is to find out more about her; her likes and dislikes, her interests, what disgusts her, and what turns her on. As much as I’d like to take what I want from her, I’d prefer she gives it to me—in spades, whenever and however I want it. I want her to belong to me in every sense of the word. I want her to forget her husband, forget she’s a convict and forget that any other man exists.

  I want her to be mine.

  She belongs to me.

  I won’t take no for an answer. She will be mine whether she likes it or not.

  I’ve only been called back up on deck a couple of times over the past few weeks for
laundry detail because the rain has been so bad. We can’t exactly work in the rain because we’ll surely catch a cold which could easily turn into pneumonia in these horrid conditions.

  Fortunately, I’ve not had many encounters with him and when I have, they’ve been out on the deck, in public. He hasn’t tried to force me back to his room but it certainly hasn’t stopped him from eye-fucking me or telling me all the things he’d love to do to me. The times that I have been up on deck, I’ve tried to make sure that I have Lizzy with me because it seems to deter him from doing anything physical.

  After complaining about the lack of food rations that we receive, Kent did ask that they be increased—and they were but not by much. That small victory gave me a little praise from the other women but it wasn’t long lasted when our rations returned to normal. My milk has almost dwindled to nothing because of the severe caloric restrictions so I’ve been giving Lizzy whatever food I can get my hands on when they bring something down to us. I feel awful that she has to eat this rotten prison garbage but it’s better than letting her starve to death; though, I might.

  I’ve had such intense pains in my stomach. The hunger sometimes makes me dizzy and feel a little fuzzy, but as long as Lizzy has food, that’s what’s important. Kent has snuck me tiny bits of food here and there when I’ve been doing the washing, but I refuse to eat it.

  Fuck that man.

  Fuck him if he thinks he can bribe me into having sex with him.

  But I’ll gladly feed it to my daughter. She’s an innocent in all of this and I can’t let her do without. I smile down at her tiny face and she smiles back—a few teeth have come in and it makes her look so cute.

  “Love you, mum,” she says with a little trouble correctly pronouncing the words still. Her vocabulary isn’t much but, from what the others have said, it’s right where it should be. She says quite a few words but it’s when she starts babbling on and on that I have trouble making out what she says. I know it’ll get better over time, though.

  “I love you, too,” I kiss the top of her head.

  And now that the weather is changing as we sail across the ocean to Botany Bay, the nights keep getting colder and colder. I’ve tried keeping her as close to me as possible so our body heat keeps us warm, but I’ve lost so much weight that I’m not a very good insulator for her. And, sadly, even with the food I’ve been giving her—from my rations and the morsels Kent has given me—she’s bone-thin, too. She’s barely doubled her birth weight and she’s about to turn one.

  “Victoria Easton,” my name is called.

  Walking to the bottom of the stairs, I begin to start up them until Kent sees Lizzy in my arms and tells me to leave her behind.

  “But I need to bring my baby,” I plead. She needs fresh air as much as I do, and some sunlight, too.

  “You won’t be able to bring her with you today; not for the task that you’ll be doing.” His voice is stern. Almost angry. His eyes glare at me as my stomach drops. I can’t see myself but I’m sure any resemblance of color has left my face.

  Slowly backing away, my knees keep locking as I try to walk. It’s like an invisible ball and chain are fastened to my ankle, too hard for me to lift my feet. My legs feel as though they weigh more than a bloody anchor. I don’t want to leave her down here. It’s not that I’m worried about her because I know Charlotte will take care of her, but I’m scared for my own safety once I’m up there without her. She’s been the only thing to keep his sexual desires at bay. Without her there, who knows what will happen.

  “It’ll be okay,” Charlotte whispers to me as she watches everything unfold. Eventually, I told her about him locking me in his room but I was too ashamed to tell her what he made me do. She knows I’m married and I don’t want anyone knowing that I tarnished my wedding vows. Instead, I told her about his abuse, him spanking me, me being locked in there for hours, and how he came back drunk before he finally let me out.

  “I know,” I reply, knowing that everything won’t be all right. The lie rolls off my dry lips as I try to force a smile, but it’s like my facial muscles are paralyzed and won’t cooperate.

  Making my way up the stairs, I quickly notice how much colder it has gotten, even during the day. Last time I was up here, there was still a hint of warmth in the air but not now. The chilly wind whips through the sails and smacks me in the face as the ship floats across the choppy water.

  “What’s this about?” I ask, folding my arms across my torso in an attempt to maintain some of my body heat.

  “Come with me,” he says. His eyes carefully scan the deck before we begin making our way across the rocky ship. The wood is slippery from small patches of ice that have formed due to the choppy water landing on the cold deck.

  He leads me down a small set of steps that take me to the Captain’s cabin. “We need this area cleaned,” he says, peering over his shoulder at the Captain. “Make sure it’s spotless. Floors are to be swept and mopped and everything is to be wiped down before polishing it. Do you understand, convict?”

  The Captain ignores us, even though Kent is putting on quite the show for him as he instructs me on what needs to be done. I nod my head, “Yes.”

  “Good,” he takes a small stool in the corner of the room where he watches me.

  Grabbing my supplies, I try to ignore him and get busy with my work. I do everything in my power to try not to think about Lizzy, or why he wouldn’t let me bring her. What is he going to do to me? I ask myself. Surely, he didn’t bring me to just clean the Captain’s cabin, and even if he did, there’s no reason why I couldn’t have brought Lizzy with me.

  Halfway through my chores, the Captain excuses himself for a short break, leaving the two of us alone. I’m partly relieved that he’s gone but at the same time, I wish he would stay.

  “Why couldn’t I bring Lizzy?” I ask. The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. I probably don’t want to know the answer.

  He raises his brow. “You’re very fond of that little one, aren’t you?” I nod, continuing to do my chores. “Then why aren’t you eating?” He snaps at me.

  “I told you, we need more rations down there. Both the men and the women. People are starving to death down there.” I’ve talked to a few of the men, trying to find Henry, but no one has seen him. One man knew who he was but said he didn’t think Henry had survived. The only thing I’ve heard from the others is how hungry everyone is and how many have died. But no one knows whether Henry was one of them or not.

  I refuse to believe that he’s dead, though. If that were true, that would mean that they would’ve thrown him over the boat, into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again. I can’t fathom that thought. My heart split in two when the man told me that he didn’t believe Henry was still alive.

  No, I must hold out hope that maybe he’s on another ship or maybe he’s not talking to anyone, keeping his head down as he told me to do.

  But, surely, he would look for me, right? Why wouldn’t he? He’d have to wonder how Lizzy and I are doing, make sure we’re okay. Or maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know that he has a wife and baby on board. Some of the women have been speculating that once we reach Botany Bay that all mayhem will break loose. The Marines and guards won’t be able to contain everyone and the fear of being raped by the men is all they talk about.

  “Regardless of rations, I’ve been giving you food, Victoria,” his nostrils flare. He gets off his stool and walks over to me, keeping his voice low but stern. “You’re stick-thin! Look at you!”

  I glance down at my body, in my raggedy dress that’s just more than a few patches of cloth now. My frame is skinny, but what am I supposed to do? It’s even been hard to get any sleep on the benches because my hip bones and shoulders dig into the wood.

  “But it’s not enough,” I reply. “I have to make sure Lizzy has enough to eat. She’s barely bigger than she was when we boarded and her birthday is coming up. I can’t bear the thought of losing her, especially so close to her turn
ing one-years-old.”

  The Captain returns to the cabin, breaking up our conversation. Kent returns to his stool and acts as though everything is normal, but I know deep down, he’s stewing inside. Why does he care if I eat or not? And there’s nothing wrong with giving it to my baby. She needs it so she can thrive and grow. I’ll make do with what I can but she’s always my number one priority.

  When I’ve finished with my duties, Kent removes me from the Captain’s cabin and leads me back to the main deck in complete silence. Once we’re alone, he grabs my wrist and pulls me toward his room.

  “No, please,” I beg, trying to get out of his grip.

  “Quiet,” he says, his voice gruff. The look in his eyes is not one to toy with. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.

  Pulling me inside his room, he locks the door behind us. Not again. I think to myself.

  “You will eat, Victoria,” he says, taking out a package of crackers and a small plate. “You might think you can do what you want—including starving yourself—but I refuse to let you.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I spout. “Take me back to my baby. What are you going to do? Lock me in here forever and try to force-feed me? I don’t want your pity, Kent.”

  His eyes grow wide, as do his nostrils. In two quick steps, he’s in my face. “Stop calling me Kent. My name is Matthew and Kent is my surname. And this isn’t pity,” he spits out. “If you don’t eat, you’ll starve to death and die. Then who will take care of your baby?” He snarls. “I’m doing you a favor. Take it.”

  I know what his favor entails and I have no interest. I’d rather have hunger pains stabbing my swollen abdomen. It’s funny, even though we’re all starving, our guts have gotten much larger. Every part of our bodies are malnourished and thin, but our belly’s don’t match the rest of our frames.

  “Eat,” he insists, pushing the plate of crackers into my lap. “And once you’ve finished, I have something else for you.”

  Oh god. I hope he doesn’t think that I’m going to give myself to him like he’s some gift to women.